word got around
by Marvelgeek42
Summary: Five times reincarnates had to explain people that they weren't cisgender and one (two times half, really) times they were already accepted. [Reincarnation; "some day, some day (yeah)" #4; set in 80s & 90s; features historical people not from the Revolutionary era]


**Alright, so:**

 **-Trigger warnings for Transphobia, Child Abuse, Mention of a Plane Crash, Mention of Drug Abuse**  
 **-Alex's part is more of a flashback, but I've kept the year anyway, because why not?**  
 **-There is allusion to Biploar Disorder, more shall be explored in the future.  
** **-Aaron is 'selectively mute' even though it's not all that much of a choice.  
** **-It's not mentioned, but Martha is a Native American. Alex and AJ are Latino, Eliza is Chinese, Dolley is Indian American. Lafayette, George, Peggy, and Angelica are African American. The author, however, is white European, so if you know better, correct me.  
** **-All segments mainly take place when the character in question is eleven, because I can.  
** **-Lafayette is Muslim and the Schuylers—bar Eliza—are Jewish. Dolley is Hindi.  
** **-I hadn't planned for Aaron's Dad to be this much of an ass. But also not for Dolley's family to be this awesome, so it kind of balances out.  
** **-The Spanish, Mandarin, and are all Google Translate, while the Hindi is from a list of terms of endearment I found on the internet somewhere.  
** **-The Schuyler siblings actually introduced themselves in this universe by singing in this because I love it.  
** **-All of the things in Dolley's part actually happened in 1997 and except for the ship thing I checked for the timeline to make sense.  
** **-I did my best to describe the sign for "what" accurately, but I am not even a novice, so if you know better, correct me.  
** **-Translations at the end. Again, if you know better, correct me.**

 **Word Count: 6,555**

* * *

 _ **word got around**_

* * *

 **[1984]**

* * *

For Alexander, pronouns are always a difficult thing when talking about the past. For a certain period of time, he's never quite sure what set to use. And yet it makes it easy, because it makes it possible to draw clear lines.

Past life he—there is not much more to be said for that, at least not in this context.

Self-classified she—he hadn't been born with the knowledge that he is still a he; he had figured that out when he was eleven, but not at birth.

Secretly he—the shortest phase of them all. By far, since it had barely lasted a month before Alexander had decided that his life as Abigail was completely and absolutely over.

Fighting to be recognized as he—that's the phase he's currently in. He hopes to eventually leave it, but he only expects it when he is in his rare, unreasonably happy moods. He always has ridiculously high expectations then.

And boy, he's so lucky that he had already been at the Washingtons when he had moved from the second to third and then to the fourth stage, because he couldn't have wished for a better reaction. He's also pretty sure that he would have taken longer—possibly a lot longer, possibly just a bit—to gather the courage to come out.

Alexander had waited for a weekend when neither George nor Martha had to work and had asked them to sit down and listen to him for a while. They had agreed without a second thought which had already made it so much easier for him.

"What is it that you want to talk about, Abigail," Martha had carefully prompted after about two to three minutes of silence. "Is there a problem?"

"No! I mean, yes? I mean, kind of…? Dios mío, esto es más difícil de lo que pensaba." At this point, he had sighed to collect his thoughts before he had continued. "Basically: I'm not Abigail."

"What do you mean?" George had wondered. His brows furrowed and it was clear to Alexander that he wasn't trying to offend, but simply understand. And that alone made it feel like a huge weight had been taken off his chest.

Alexander did not know when he had started to shake, but he knew that by this point, he was shaking enough that standing seemed like a bad idea.

"I'm still Alexander. Not Abigail, but Alexander. He. A boy. Male. All that stuff," he had done his best to explain. He had been so sure that he wouldn't be accepted, that they would sent him away, just like all his previous foster homes had done for other reasons.

But that was not what had happened at all.

Instead, Martha had simply nodded and said, "Alright, thank you for telling us," and moved to hug him while George began thinking about ways to get him closer to an actual men's body.

It was so much more than he could ever have hoped for and that made him so much more confident. More valid.

Most importantly, he had felt comfortable telling his friends at school. AJ separately from Oscar and Walter, but only because of the tiny but important word 'still'—plus Alex had seen AJ first, so.

The twins had needed a reason as for why he had chosen Alexander, because they were curious people. They would have kept asking otherwise and even if Humbolt—one had to admit that the man was pretty great—had been the real inspiration, Alexander would not have minded telling them.

His friends' reactions hadn't been much different when compared to the Washington's. Alexander had had to explain a bit more, but that had been had just been trying to grasp every aspect of it.

All of them—including the Washingtons—had been very good with the switch of pronouns, Alexander had to say. None of them had messed up after the first week or so—some of them had not messed up at all—and whenever they had done this, they had promptly corrected themselves and apologized. It was really nice, honestly.

Like, sure, his body sucks—general dysphoria aside, having had the displeasure of experiencing both and thus the ability to compare, he can definitely say that having a period is a lot worse than being kicked in the balls, okay—but at least the people who he associates with are more than worth it.

Of course, there are also a great many people who do not accept him. Those who insist to call him Abigail and she and all those other words that became horrible when connected to him.

These people he punches in the face whenever they aren't in a position of power over him. Oh, he irks to do it to the others as well, but he is aware that it was a bad idea and possessed just barely enough self restraint not to do it.

Or not to do it all the time, since Alexander is completely honest here. Sometimes, when people are being especially obnoxious, he just can't help himself, alright? And since he always accepts the punishments, he doesn't see why people have to complain about it.

Like that man from the ASVAB who tells him that he could never succeed in the military because of is 'insane delusions'. What does that fool know?

Martha only tells him to aim properly, George to remember his physical limits and create a distance when there is a chance of retribution, Lafayette—when xey arrive a year later—actively cheers on him and Alexander still gets letters from colleges begging him to attend when the time for that comes. So ha.

He's never sure if they actually agreed with him when he—rightly—calls it self-defense or if they simply accept him 'despite' it, but in the end, it doesn't really matter. He already knows which school he wants to attend. The same one as last time, King's College—or Columbia University, but that sounds so much worse, honestly.

He's not completely sure if it's pure nostalgia or if he hopes to meet people from the past there, but he is honestly not sure if it even matters.

* * *

 **[1985]**

* * *

Before dying in September 1836, Aaron Burr's life had been different.

Before, he had been white. Now, his skin is much darker.

Before, he had been the son of a wealthy, educated family. Now, well, his father has just gotten out of prison.

Before, talking less had been more of a choice. Now, his throat feels like it's full of wool quite often.

Before, there were no really problems whenever he was in some way, shape or form associated with masculinity. Now, he did not feel connected to the concept at all. Not to anything female either, he is simply himself.

And unfortunately, that is not only not what anyone expects of him, it is quite traumatising to boot.

Because in 1985, his family lives in the ghetto. His father has only been out of prison for the last few days. The man had been in there for a reason, Aaron has to admit. Aaron's father is a gang member and a drug dealer and while Aaron knows that he was pushed into it by necessity, he's not sure if the man hadn't started to relish in it somewhere down the line.

The man certainly doesn't seem very regretful that he missed the last five years of Aaron's life and Sara's funeral.

His own damn daughter's funeral. She had been shot right before Aaron's eyes, simply because she had been his father's daughter and these people had been in the opposing gang. Aaron doesn't even know how he survived, honestly.

He desperately wants to be anywhere but here right now and do anything but play baseball with his father.

"C'mon, I know ya can catch better, son," the man tried to encourage him.

"Not your son." All these times when he can't speak, all this controlled concise talking after careful thoughts and _this_ is what slips out?

His father stops dead in his tracks. "You damn well are, boy. Or are you accusing your Momma of being a bitch?" Aaron knows a threat when he hears one.

His throat closes up—as it tends to do when it is the least convenient—and Aaron struggles to say something anyway. _Just take a deep breath and picture the best possible outcome_ , he thinks. His sister Sara had suggested that when he had first told her about his problem a few months before her death. He had only been five at the time and his sister eight. She had been way too young to die.

"It's the 'son' part I have problems with," he eventually manages to say. It had taken too long and is too slow, Aaron is aware of it. The only thing that somewhat helps him is that it's accurate as well, thus not a lie and detectable on his face. It's an omission, sure, but not a harmful one.

"What on earth dyja mean with _that?"_

Aaron can't talk anymore. He just can't. His throat is full of wool—at least it feels like it—and, to make matters worse, it feels a bit like he is choking.

Not exactly pleasant, so he moves to his backpack and takes the pen and notebook he carries around for situations like this. He can see his father scrawl and he himself is only barely managing not to hide or flee. It's not like he _chooses_ not to talk right now. He just can't, as his father would know if he had been around.

 _I don't feel like I am male or female or any gender at all_ , he writes. It takes a while, because his hands are shaking so much. The letters are a lot less legible than his writing usually is, too. _I am just me._

That, apparently had not been the right thing to say—well, write. His father moves over to him, grabs his collar and raises him up an inch or two. Both pen and paper fall out of Aaron's hands.

"Listen here buddy, I don't know who put such shit in your head but you better forget that immediately, have you understood?"

Aaron can feel the tears forming in his eyes as he nods.

But that's not enough for his father. "I said: do you understand?"

Aaron opens his mouth to agree, but no matter how much he tries, no words come out. In his desperation, he can no longer hold his tears back.

"You're pathetic," his father mutters as he sets him back down, but not before Aaron is on the receiving end of a punch.

And Aaron collects his things as quickly as he can, turns around, and runs.

He doesn't know where he's running to. Except for the fact that he makes a short stop at the place he lives—used to live. After checking that no one is there, he sprints inside and grabs as much of his clothes, homework and things he holds dear and throws them in three different bags. It's not very much, he can still carry all of it, even if it's a bit of a hinderance.

He turns around himself once to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything important and runs back out of the house.

He runs and runs, until he no longer can. By then, he has no clue where he is.

"Burr? Is that you?" someone asks behind him, right as he begins to think about what comes next.

The voice feels familiar and yet Aaron does not recognize it until he spins around. "Hercules Mulligan?"

"Yes, it's me," the tall man nods. He looks like he's nearing thirty and he's wearing a bandana, but it's not in the style of any gang Aaron knows. Is it just a personal styling choice or does he need to be worried.

Well, seeing as Mulligan had been Hamilton's friend, he probably needs to be either way.

"What's with all the stuff you're carrying? Have you run away, kid?"

Aaron blinks. Then he does it again.

"What?"

"You've been running away from something—it wasn't hard to miss if you paid some attention—and the fact that you've packed some stuff makes it clear that you don't intend to go back. Is that a bruise forming on your cheek?" the man asks incredulously. He is actually sounding worried. That's so...odd.

"My Dad got out of jail last week and," Aaron winces. Once again, his throat closes up.

"Hang on, your _father_ did this?" Hercules—when did he become Hercules?—questions. "Where was your mom?"

Aaron shrugs. Probably getting her next fix somewhere or something.

Hercules straightes. "Alright, that solves that then. You're coming with me, kid. I have a judge that owes me a favor, it won't be a problem."

And somehow, it really isn't when Aaron expects.

Hercules accepts it when Aaron tells him he doesn't feel male. He and his boyfriend Cato even help him research alternative pronouns, which is how ey discovers that such a thing exists at all.

It's only later that ey learns ASL and even then, there has to be someone around who is familiar with it to be helpful for em at all. Ey desperately wants to be able to speak normally, but ey's really not sure what ey can do against this, if anything.

But, as ey learns with Hercules, ey is fine the way ey is.

* * *

 **[1986]**

* * *

It is on the friday of Lafayette's first week when he first has PE at his new school.

He has only been at the Washington's for two weeks at this point and still cannot quite comprehend how lucky he is to find them, have them accept him, and even have Alexander as a sibling that somewhat understands his struggles.

Somewhat, because Alexander is always a him, while Lafayette is sometimes a she or a xey.

Actually, xey is what xey's feeling like right now.

The point being, xey haven't really met anyone but Alexander and his friends. No one his one age, except for this one asshole xey'd rather forget right now. Really, Alexander's friends are much nicer. Xey is just going to stick with them until it is no longer possible—they will go to another school years before xem, after all. And, of course, that plan is out of the window if they mind.

Consequently, Lafayette has no friends or even people he knows in this class—xey had not really talked to anyone this week. No one had caught xeir interest—so xey fully expect to be picked last. Xey has made peace with it, especially since this subject is only required for a few more years until Lafayette is able to pick a sport xey actually likes. Xey can deal until then, even if xey are stuck here for the moment.

Although xey changes in a bathroom to avoid the issue of picking a changing room altogether. Bathrooms xey can use however xey feel like at the moment—they can try to stop xem, yes, but xey knows that xey will ultimately win—but changing rooms are permanent.

Xey enters the gym around the same time as everyone else and, since everyone is wearing bright colors, xey don't really stick out all that much. The students stand in various small groups scattered across the gym and chat with each other, while Lafayette wanders aimlessly through them, trying to figure out which group seems to be the most approachable.

Xeir progress is interrupted by the coach entering the gym.

"Alright, we're gonna play a game today. For that I need the boys to go on one side and the girls on the other." He gestures to each side of the hall in turn.

The rest of the students comply without a word, but a select few of them grimace while doing so. They may simply not want to be separated from their friends, but just in case it isn't, Lafayette cannot let that happen.

So xey moves to the dead center of the gym.

"What on earth do you think you're doing, boy?" the coach yells. He's clearly trying to frighten him into submission.

And Lafayette simply stands there straight, using all of the lessons about posture xey can remember from xeir first life. Xey are not afraid of that man. After the wars, prisons, and revolutions xey have already seen, it takes a lot more than that.

"Well, I am neither," xey reply cheerfully, desperately hoping and praying that his attempt at speaking in the nearly accent free English he had spoken towards the end of his last life is working. "At least not right now. So you never specified what I should do."

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" the coach yells as the other children watch from the side. His voice creates an ugly shade of purple inside xeir mind.

"No," Lafayette states calmly with a smile on xeir face. If there is even one child like xem and/or Alexander here, xey have to win this. But xey also wants this victory for xemself. "I am very much certain in my gender identity. I do, however, wonder, if you are supposed to insult your students. Simply tell me what I should do and we have no problem."  
The children on the side watch xeir every move, while the coach takes a step towards xem and raises his index finger. "You listen here, boy-"

"No, you listen, since you apparently haven't been before." Lafayette can feel the admiration several students have for xeir bravery, to be able to stand here and do this without quivering, but xey really no not care about that. "I know exactly how I feel and your opinions will not change that. Simply tell me what I should do, without dismissing my gender identity as invalid, and I will comply without any more complaint. It is not as difficult as you make it out to be."

It is then that they notice the way that two students—one from each side of the gym—are taking slow and hesitant steps away from their peers. Xey aren't sure if they wish to change side or join xem in the middle, but xey really don't care. Instead, he gives both of them an encouraging smile.

One of them shrinks under it and takes a steps backwards, while the other raises their head, straightens their entire body and moves forward. They walk to the other kid and hold out their hand in front of them.

They take it and they walk together to the middle of the room, but the first kid continues onto the side of the boys. He's a he then, Lafayette mentally files away as they turn to the second child.

"Thank you for joining me here, it was very brave of you." Because admiring the bravery of others is important. The world needs more navy blue.

The kid shakes their head. "Not as brave as you are for starting this." The words are a deep blue. In fact, that shade is among Lafayette's favorites.

"It's the least I could do, honestly."

They are completely alone in that moment, despite the fact that the gym is full of people.

And the coach doesn't like that.

"I'll have you suspended for this!" he attempts to threaten, which seems like the only thing he does, really.

Lafayette actually laughs out loud at that. "Good luck with that. No, really, I'd actually like to see you try. My adopted mother is Martha Washington." Not to mention Alexander and George, none of whom needed to tell anyone who they were to get people to do things.

"The lawyer?" the coach stutters. It's good to see that Martha has the reputation she deserves, really.

"Yes," Lafayette replies with a grin, "precisely."

The coach sighs. "Just pick a side for now and stick to it then, you two."

Oh, the sweet, sweet fuchsia of victory. Lafayette, always one to be extra, skips to the side of the girls, while the other one returns to the side of the boys. Maybe they feel more comfortable there or maybe they want to support the shiest one out of the three of them, but it doesn't matter.

Their choice is valid either way.

* * *

 **[1987]**

* * *

Peggy had kept the fact that she feels different from her first life—in ways other than the obvious such as her now dark skin—secret for a while.

Okay, no, actually that is a complete lie. Peggy had felt like this the last time as well, but back then, it had been even more inexcusable than it was now. She probably would have been hanged if she had ever breathed a word to anyone but her sisters about it.

Not that she had dared to do that either, simply due to the sheer possibility of the conversation being overheard. There could have been no one else around for miles and Peggy had still worried.

So she had kept quiet and simply accepted that she was called 'she' and 'daughter' and 'sister' and things like that. At least it was partly true. Like, around seventy percent or so.

Yeah, she had been and is female, but he's also male. She is not sure how she knows, she just does.

There is a reason why Peggy had taken a while to confess to the truth in this life as well, and that reasons simple: they had been missing Eliza for eleven years—or longer for Angelica.

Angelica is still her older sister and they have the same birthdays—concerning days and months—as well as the same age difference, but between them, there is a glaring lack.

They're simply "Angelica and Peggy". It sounds alright, it works, but it's not as good as "Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy" and it has no chance of ever being as great.

Peggy simply hadn't had the heart to give her sister more grief—a sentiment that, once expressed, had earned a look of disappointment and a rant whose main point is that making Peggy happy in any way will never cause grieve to Angelica, alright?

But then, there had been some sort of plane crash in China that had left numerous children as orphans. Their new parents—not the same ones as last time—had sat Peggy and Angelica down and asked if they would mind the family adopting another child.

The sisters had enthusiastically agreed the very second the words had been out of their mother's mouth.

Having another child around, no matter the age would help them fill the emptiness left behind by all the siblings they no longer had, especially Eliza. And if they were helping an orphan in the progress then that could only make the whole deal sweeter. This was, without a doubt, the thing Eliza would have done.

But then, the incredible happens. It turns out that the child, Yang Ai, arriving at their doorstep is—

"Eliza!" Peggy yells before she has even made it through the door. The only reason Angelica and Peggy hadn't gone to the airport with their parents was because they had to be in school. Peggy had simply gone downstairs for a glass of water, but this is so much better.

She hugs her sister—who seems incredibly overwhelmed, quite understandably so—and drags her inside before their parents can do anything.

"ANGELICA!" she screams as loudly as she can. "ANGELICA, AI IS ELIZA!"

There is a loud thud upstairs, as if a chair had fallen over. Mere moments later, there is the sound of a door slamming open and quick footsteps.

"What is going on?" is all their mother can say before Angelica joins the hug of the other two.

The three of them are all crying of joy.

Their parents cannot do much more than stand there until the three of them have calmed down enough to let go of one another.

"What is going on?" their father repeats their mother's question.

"Okay, this is going to sound insane—believe me, I know it—but all three of us are reincarnated and we were sisters in our first lives," Angelica states bluntly.

"Siblings, actually," Peggy corrects before she can stop herself.

"You were trans?" Eliza—Ai?—questions. Her accent is undeniable, but so is Eliza's melodic voice that Peggy knows so well.

She might as well, right? "Am still. And not really. I'm still a girl, just also a boy."

Angelica nods. "Alright. We'll postpone the conversation of why you never told for later, if you don't mind."

Peggy nods but Eliza-or-Ai holds her hand up.

"Just one quick question. Which pronoun should I use while talking about nǐ?"

"I haven't actually thought about that," she—for now?—admits. "Let's talk about that another time as well, shall we?"

"I would welcome that," their mother speaks up. "Seeing you interact had made me believe your—as you said yourself—insane story, yes, but I do need more details. _Who were you_?"

These words held so much weight that Peggy just couldn't help but make a joke to diffuse this.

"Angelica had an affair with Thomas Jefferson, Eliza was practically George Washington's daughter-in-law, and Alexander Hamilton once wrote a play starring me as the main role."

Their parents blink as once.

"Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton…?" he questions weakly. One has to consider that the man is a teacher for American History.

"Yeah," Peggy nods. "Eliza—or Ai? What do you prefer?"

"Both is fine," Ai—because hey, that name is cool as well—says as she shrugs.

"Alright." She attempts to continue, but Angelica interrupts her.

"What about Eliza founding an orphanage, me helping Lafayette escape an Austrian prison, and the time someone threw a tomack after you in our home?" she suggests.

"Not to forget that both of you eloped last time," Eliza adds with a smile.

At that, Peggy shrugs. "Hey, we didn't all have husbands that could talk people around to pretty much anything."

Angelica, however, raises an eyebrow. "Your husband was on the 'Top Ten Wealthiest People' list of America. Or he would have been, had it existed."

"This is going a bit too fast for me," their mother comments. "Can we slow this conversation down a touch?"

"Of course," Eliza promises. Then, she grins as an idea occurs to her. "Simply said, we were..."

Angelica understands their sister's silent suggestion and sings, "Angelica."

"Eliza," Ai continues.

"And Peggy," she follows her sister's lead.

"The Schuyler siblings," the three of them conclude together. It's really nice that Angelica and Eliza pretty much instinctively change the words to me more accurate.

They follow through with that theme. Once Peggy has done some research on pronouns, once ze decides that ze is the right one for zem, zir sisters do not slip up a single time.

* * *

 **[1997]**

* * *

"Ranjit!" her mother calls. "Dinner is ready!"

Dolley sighs and stops her CD player. The Backstreet Boys wouldn't be running away from her, after all. She had recorded their newest single yesterday, on the very day it had come out. "I'm coming, Mom."

After all the better she follows her mother's wishes, the more likely she is to allow her to go to New York to see 1776 in that theatre. Despite the fact that her former husband does not appear in it, she still feels the need to see it performed on stage. Perhaps the fact that Thomas plays a part in it has something to do with that. Not only had he been rather close with her husband, Dolley herself had acted as his First Lady on many occasions.

And wow, if it hadn't been odd to realize that the small Indian American boy she had thought herself to be back when she had been five had once been the First Lady of two separate Presidents, then she doesn't know what is, seriously.

By now, she has arrived in the kitchen, where the rest of her family is already seated. For a moment, Dolley is worried that she has let them wait too long, but their expressions are relaxed enough for that to be impossible.

"Damayanti wanted to share some big news with us," her mother informs them. Seeing as Dolley's sister is eighteen, she knows that her mother is hoping for an engagement and her father seems to have the same hope.

Meanwhile Nakshatra is simply piling more curry on his plate, bless him.

"What is it, baalamavaa?" their father prompts. "Are you engaged to that nice boy, Navneet?"

"Susan," Damayanti deadpans. There is no one named Susan around, but Dolley has a suspicion of where she is going with this, even if no one else seems to. "I'm gay."

Her parents are in shock for a moment, before they nod.

"What about Mahi, then?" her father asks. "She is a nice girl and you always seemed to be rather close."

"Looks very good in a Sari," her mother adds. She has the exact same look on her face that she had when talking about boys with Damayanti before.

Seeing this response, Dolley takes a deep breath.

"I am actually a girl," she confesses.

"Alright, Ranjit, do you have another name we should call you?" her father asks after a second has passed.

"Dolley," she replies quietly. Then she repeats it with a bit more confidence.

"Why not a nice Indian name?" her mother asks. She doesn't mean anything bad by it though, Dolley is well aware of that.

"It was my name in a past life and I have grown rather fond of it," Dolley explains. Hey, since her family believes in reincarnation, she might as well tell the truth.

"You remember your past life?" Damayanti questions. Her eyebrows disappear in her hair.  
Dolley nods. "Yeah, I don't know why, but I do."

"I have just realized that only Nakshatra will give me grandchildren now," their mother exclaims. "Only he can carry on the Havandar name!"

"What about our cousins?" Dolley asks as her brother looks up from his food for the first time. "Huh?"

"You need to find a nice girl and marry her," her mother orders.

"Maybe not right now," his father interrupts, "but your mom wants to have grandchildren and your sisters just revealed that their of them are likely to have any."

"What, why?" Nakshatra questions. "Sisters?"

"Weren't you listening?" Damayanti sounds quite insulted. "I quoted Ellen and everything!" Her hands almost hit the lights as she throws them into the air.

"He is too focused on his food," Dolley chuckles. It's always kinda fun when her big brother gets in trouble for this.

"Pay attention when people are talking," her father scolds. "We are your family and you best realize that nothing is more important than that."

"I'm sorry," her brother bows his head. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," her mother adds. "Otherwise there will be consequences."

"I know," Nakshatra replies. "What did I miss?"

"I'm gay and Ranjit is actually Dolley," Damayanti informs him.

"Oh," Nakshatra turns to both sisters and apologizes for the fact that he had not listened properly.

Both of them accept their brother's apology. They have become used to the way that boy is with food.

"Now let us talk about something more cheerful," their father proposes.

"There is actually something I wanted to talk to you about," Dolley mentions between two bites of curry. "I'd like to see 1776 in the Criterion Theatre in New York if it is possible."

"That is the musical, right?" Damayanti asks. "Because you know that I am always game for those."

"It sounds like a wonderful idea, Dolley," her mother agrees. "What do you think, Pandu?"

"I have to go up North next week because of the USS Yorktown anyway, I see no reason not to make a family outing out of it." There is a wide smile on her father's face as he explains this.

"What happened with the Yorktown?" Nakshatra inquires.

"The board computers attempted to divide by zero," Father explains. "It's been 'dead in the water' since."

"How come the computers did that?" Damayanti asks.

"That's what I am to figure out."

"Can we come along?" Nakshatra shows more enthusiasm for this than he usually does for anything but food. "Before the musical starts, I mean."

Dolley loves how he doesn't even argue them going, even if Nak clearly doesn't want to go. It's the same reason why Dolley will go along to the ship without complaint, should that happen.

"Oh, can we;" Damayanti requests. She moves her lower lips forward, flatters her eyelids a bit, and everything.

"What do you say, Manjistha?" Father questions.

"If your superiors have no issues with it, I do not see why I should," she answers. "If you could help with the dishes, please?"

"Of course!" Damayanti is actually offended by the suggestion she wouldn't.

Dolley and Nak stand up to help as well.

"Aashiq, if you will excuse me, I will have to call my bosses now if I want to be sure that they are fine with it," her father excuses himself.

"Alright, but you will be giving me something in exchange," her mother yells after him.

"Obviously!" He laughs in reply.

Dolley really loves her family.

* * *

 **[1986]**

* * *

It's the Monday after the incident in the gym when a kid of maybe twelve or thirteen—definitely older than Lafayette, but younger than Alex—comes up to the two of the two of them as they enter the grounds of the school.

"You're Lafayette, right? What did you mean, you don't feel like either? That's possible?" The voice is filled with the bright green of curiosity.

"Of course it is!" Lafayette replies, absently playing with her skirt. "Right now, I feel like a girl, but sometimes I'm a boy and most often I'm neither. Why on earth shouldn't it be possible?"

The kid is a bit stunned, so Alex swings an arm around their shoulder. "Let's go to our usual spot and clear that up away from the others. Well, most others," he corrects. His voice is a warm beige, like it often is. "I'm afraid that AJ, Oscar, and Walter will be around, but surely that's better than everyone."

"And possibly ze other two kids of my gym class—I forgot their names, je crains," Lafayette shrugs, "I told them where we meet, but it's no guarantee that they will show up."

"Yeah, we can be a bit overwhelming, we are aware," Alexander acknowledges. "What's your name anyway, buddy?"

"Jonathan Bellamy," the kid mutters.

Alexander's eyes grow in size, but he does not try to distance himself from the kid or anything. Neither does he flinch. "Weren't you a friend of Burr? I distinctly remember him talking about you in the first few years."

That certainly explains a few things then. Lafayette tries to make eye contact with her brother, but it is to no avail.

"Aaron Burr?" the kids asks. "H-how do you know?"

"Let's put it this way, I was 'his friend, Alexander, whom he shot'," Alexander paraphrases.

"What? Aaron didn't seem like the type to do anything like that!" Bellamy exclaims.

"I did provoke him, but honestly, I stand by what I said," Alexander replies with conviction.

"Only you, mon frère," Lafayette shakes her head. "Only you."

"What? He would have been a danger to the public as President!" Alexander protests, throwing the arm that wasn't still around Bellamy's shoulder in the air. "Haven't you heard about the corruption charges? Or the Texas thing—or wait, was it New Mexico? I have read two conflicting sources about it and it did happen after I died."

"What Texas thing?" Bellamy questions. "I did die in 1777, remember?"

"Don't worry, AJ also always has to ask for the gossip," Alexander replies. "He was a slave—my slave—in the Caribbean the last time, so not exactly up to date. And neither Oscar nor Walter—they're twins, by the way—know anything about this at all."

"Why not?" Bellamy wonders. There is a frown on his face, Lafayette notes.

"I don't know, it just never came up," Alexander laughs more than he speaks. It is just as orange as the fruit, very lovely.

Lafayette loves Alexander's laugh. It's so pretty to look at. It's a shame that she doesn't get to see it often, as least not truly.

* * *

 _At the same time somewhere in New York City_

The year that Aaron had spend at Hercules' home is—without any doubt—the most pleasant one in eir life.

The man makes sure that Aaron goes to school and the only thing he demands in exchange for Aaron staying at his house is that ey helps with the dishes, makes eir bed, and occasionally gets some fabrics from the other side of his shop.

It is more than Aaron had ever dared to hope for.

So when Hercules tells em to sit down in the kitchen for an important discussion concerning their living situation, Aaron fears for the worst.

Ey gets eir pen and paper, as ey is in no way fluent enough for ASL to properly express emself while this nervous, but writing? Writing ey can do.

"Aaron," Hercules motions. "It occurred to me that you probably misinterpreted my words and for that I would like to apologize."

Aaron frowns and moves both of eir hands in front of em, palms to the ceiling and the hands more open than closed. It is one of the words of ASL that ey's fairly sure Hercules also knows. It means 'what'.

"I do not intend for you to move out, but rather for more people to move in," Hercules explains.

Aaron motions for him to continue.

"You see, my boyfriend Cato—I mentioned him, right? Okay—he and I have decided that we want to move in together and we have agreed that the better solution is for him to move here, since his job is actually closer from here among other things. Then I received a call from my twin sister Minerva—last time, she used to be Hugh, but she's fine with Min this time around, as I'm sure I must've mentioned—called and, well, her apartment has unfortunately been in flames and I'd like to invite her here at least temporarily. But since you live here as well, I wanted to ask you if you have any problems with that."

Aaron is stunned. It takes a few moments until ey remembers to pick up eir pen and start writing, since speaking is most definitely not an option right now.

 _Will they respect my pronouns? Will they have any issues with me not speaking? Because it is your house and these are the only issues I could really have_ _,_ ey writes.

"I haven't told Min yet, but knowing her she wouldn't have an issue and Cato does not only use the pronouns when you're present, I promise. As for the other thing, Minerva is actually more fluent in ASL than either of us is at this point and Cato has been practising. And should either of them do something rude—not that I expect it, but just in case—then you are to come to me and we'll sort through it together. More than likely it will have been a mistake and if not, well, it's their loss then. So what do you say?" he asks.

Aaron is incredibly stunned. Ey cannot believe that someone puts that much stock into eir opinion. _No problem then_.

"Great! I'll call them immediately."

* * *

 **Translations:**  
 **Dios mío, esto es más difícil de lo que pensaba - My God, this is harder than I thought.**  
 **nǐ** **— you (Mandarin) - I can't get it to look better, but the thing is supposed to be over the i  
** **baalamavaa & Aashiq — Hindi terms out endearment.  
** **je crains — I'm afraid (French)  
** **mon frère — my brother (French)**


End file.
